Protector at Heart
by Socrates7727
Summary: When Stiles suffers the tragic loss of his father under mysterious circumstances, he's placed under the protection of the FBI. But, when agents start falling like flies, they introduce him to an outside professional-Derek Hale. Can Derek protect him from whatever or whoever took his father? Or will he end up protecting more than just another client? Stiles/Derek. Rated M for later
1. Chapter 1

A.N. I do not own Teen Wolf or any of it's characters! Enjoy.

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Thirty days.

Four weeks.

One month.

It'd been one month since the incident. Sometimes it felt like years had passed since that night, other times it felt like only seconds. Usually, the was the latter. There were rumors and whispers that it was because his dad was too close to something, but to be honest Stiles didn't really care why. His dad was gone, now. That's all that seemed to matter.

But that also meant one month, so far, in federal custody. And, so far, six of his federal bodyguards- _six_ -have died. Two were car accidents, conveniently timed and in the right place, and one was still missing in action. The other three… were killed. Protecting him, they said, but each time it seemed more like they were just putting him in more danger, almost getting him killed every time. So, apparently, they hired outside the bureau.

They assured him- though he wasn't sure who _they_ were anymore-that the new guy was well vetted and came from a military background and would definitely keep him safe. But, when the new guy walked into the safe house, Stiles suddenly wasn't really worried. Sharp, defined muscles and a jawline that could cut glass, the new guy was gorgeous and Stiles was a little less anxious when he was distracted by him.

Every day-and night-there were at least five other feds on site at all times but they rotated and switched so often they just blurred together. But Derek… Derek was constant. Derek made every inch of Stiles' life his business. He learned Stiles' routine, every aspect of his life he'd ever kept secret-from the kind of cereal he ate as a kid to how he folded his boxers.

When yet another attack forced them to move yet again, Stiles didn't really expect anything to change except the faces of feds he already couldn't remember. But, with the attack, came a new level of anxiety from Derek that was honestly kind of unsettling. Derek took to sleeping on his floor by the door. Usually, the agents left him alone to his room and he figured it was probably in their rulebook or something but Derek wasn't bound by a rulebook. The more time he spent with the man, the more he realized that the only thing that governed Derek was his own gut.

It was Derek who woke him from the nightmares with a gentle hand on his arm. It was Derek who brought him coffee in the morning when he'd had a rough night. It was Derek whose breathing and heart rate were always just close enough to sense but never close enough to analyze. It was just… always Derek. Maybe it was a byproduct of being together 24/7 but he was starting to open up to Derek-telling him small stories about his mom or his friends back in Beacon Hills. Derek was also the only one who called him Stiles, the rest used his number.

It was safer that way they said. But Derek didn't give a shit and shrugged when Stiles asked him about it.

"What difference will it make? If they can listen in on us, then they'll probably know your case number anyway." Stiles nodded, kind of impressed with how blunt and honest that was compared to the usual secrecy of the feds. Until Derek came, no one would tell him anything. Now, he made them.

He distinctly remembered one night in particular: where the nightmares were really bad and he couldn't even close his eyes. He remembered Derek getting up with him, sitting with him and just talking with him. Derek had asked him what he was scared of. Usually, the feds-if they even noticed-just told him to go back to sleep. They never asked him why he was afraid.

"I'm afraid of them coming for me... like my dad." But rather than reassure him or tell him not to worry about it, Derek had just nodded. He'd stayed with him, quiet but present, until he fell asleep.

The next morning, Derek had summoned him to the living room. With the blinds all closed and the lights on, Derek began to the slow process of teaching him how to get out of basic holds and how to fight back without hurting himself. Slowly, he learned how to disarm an attacker and how to hide if he ever got separated from Derek. It was weird but Stiles actually felt better afterwards.

* * *

Derek yelled at himself internally when he caught himself wanting… just yearning to reach out and pull Stiles to his chest. It was his job to protect the client, but not to feel so damn protective of him. He wanted to shield him from the world that had already hurt him too much but no. That wasn't the job. Technically he shouldn't have even been in Stiles' room-he never crossed the wooden barrier with the client because that was how things got messy-but he had to be now. Now that he knew what it felt like to fall asleep with the reassurance of Stiles' shallow breathing, knowing he was safe.

He knew he shouldn't get attached-after all, it was just another job and it would end soon enough-but he did. Really, he couldn't help it. Stiles had an easy, carefree way of existing that made him forget about everything going wrong. He liked it. Stiles wasn't afraid of him either which was new and kind of endearing. Now, he woke up in an instant whenever he heard that familiar hitch in Stiles' breathing and he was usually up and beside him before the tears started. Sometimes, he wasn't that lucky and by the time he made it to the boy his face was streaked in tears and he was writhing on the bed like some invisible force was fighting him. He hated those times most.

When Stiles did wake up, it never took much. He never hugged him or pulled him to his chest or stroked his hair no matter how badly he wanted to; he just rested a hand on Stiles' shoulder and rubbed softly until he moved away. Derek truly loved waking up to see Stiles' face, especially when he was still asleep. He loved it more than he should have. Stiles was just another client who had been through hell and thought Derek was his savior. He shrugged it off whenever he could as protecting Stiles-emotionally and mentally-but at night when he was alone with his thoughts, he doubted that.

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Thanks for reading! As always, please review, follow, favorite, and share!


	2. Chapter 2

A.N. I don't own Teen Wolf or any of it's characters! Enjoy!

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Stiles was, more than any other thing, bored. Bored of his room with it's pale green walls the color of rotting broccoli, bored of his endless routine of chores and card games, bored of being locked up like some animal. He was stir crazy and suffocating-the weeks inside starting to get to him. It wasn't much, honestly. With how far they were into the woods Stiles could have disappeared for hours without even trying. But he didn't want to completely break the rules, so instead he just stepped out into the backyard and sat under a tree.

It was an oak tree, he thought, fresh with new leaves and a birds nest or two. Just feeling the bark touch the back of his arms made him smile because finally it wasn't something cheaply manufactured for a dollar store. They were in a remote place and it wasn't like anyone would see him, right? He told himself it was just for a minute, just to remember what the sun felt like.

When Derek did finally find him, there was a flush to his cheeks and his pupils were blown wide, slightly crazed. Was Derek actually upset? Derek frowned at him but didn't yell or chastise him, to his surprise. Stiles couldn't understand the fear on Derek's face. That worry and concern couldn't really be just for him, could it? But it made sense, he reasoned, because if Derek lost a client he'd probably never get hired again. But, just for a second, Stiles let himself think it was more. Think, or maybe hope...

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Derek was overwhelmed with relief when he _finally_ found Stiles. So much so, that he was forced to realize how panicky he had actually become at the thought of Stiles being gone. He wasn't supposed to panic or get emotional dammit! He was supposed to be smart and protect the client-he was supposed to do his damn job and nothing more. But, when he saw Stiles' face- and particularly the smile on it as he looked up at the sun with his eyes closed-he suddenly felt as if he was drowning in the desire to touch him. Not sexually, or even romantically, just to have some sort of physical contact. Some kind of touch or connection. Just something, anything, to reassure him that Stiles was safe.

No matter how badly he wanted it, he didn't let himself do it. But, once he'd gruffly told Stiles never to do that again and to get back inside, he couldn't stop himself. He brushed their hands together, ever so slightly, in the doorway as if it was an accident. Even just that little tiny touch -though it wasn't enough-felt amazing, like grabbing onto an anchor and feeling the world become still around him. He was over-protective, even for a bodyguard, and he knew it. Honestly, though? He didn't care. He couldn't help it, even when he tried.

There was only one other time Derek could remember being that worried, though, for Stiles safety. Day two of their third safe house, he'd heard a thud and rushed down the stairs only to see Stiles on the ground with blood seeping between his fingers. His stomach plummeted. Even though Stiles smiled sheepishly up at him, he told himself the client was hurt. _Head wounds always bleed a lot, huh?_ But all his mind ended up being able to hear was that Stiles was hurt-his Stiles. Wait his Stiles? That wasn't right and he shook his head at the memory because he knew it. Stiles wasn't his. He had to keep telling himself that.

* * *

But, even with his little adventure, Stiles was bored- _so bored_ -and he managed to convince Derek that the only way to keep him in the house and quiet that night was to play a game. So, when they went upstairs that night, Stiles sat down on the bed beside Derek to play a new version of twenty questions. He made it up on the spot, actually, but the gist was simple. One person asked a question, and they both had to answer. Derek agreed surprisingly quickly-suspiciously quickly-but Stiles could guess that he was just hoping he would pass out soon and trying to keep him from running off again. Of course, he wouldn't have even considered it after the way Derek reacted last time but he didn't say that. What was the harm if it made Derek a little easier to convince? Nevertheless, Derek agreed.

* * *

It didn't take long for them to get into their pasts. Without even realizing it, he let Stiles catch the first hint of Kate-though he really wasn't planning on ever sharing that part of his life with anyone-but soon enough it wasn't a game as much as it was a deep conversation. To his surprise, Derek could feel himself emotionally present and vulnerable. He was scared, of course, or at least anxious but it was tolerable.

For some reason, he had this innate kind of trust in Stiles. Maybe it was the way Stiles lived life so honest and sincere and unafraid... Stiles, for being so talkative, was a surprisingly good listener and drank in every word he said in like a dying man's last cup of wine. When Derek finally hesitated long enough, Stiles smiled a bit at him.

"Thank you, Der." Derek tried to hide it-he tried _so_ hard-but that nickname shot deep into his chest and stirred something in him. He wanted to hear it again, and again, and a hundred times more until it was the only name he was used to. But he didn't dare ask. It brought up a feeling he'd forgotten a long time ago... not lust, or desire, but a feeling kind of like home.

"Yeah, course…" Stiles laughed suddenly, startling him out of whatever kind of stupor he was in.

"Hey, Der, come sleep in the bed." Instantly Derek was shaking his head because, no matter how messed up his emotions were, he knew that wasn't right. You didn't share a bed with the client. But Stiles kept pushing…

"Come on! That floor is rock hard and I can see the knots in your back from it. Besides, its gonna be really cold tonight and we only have the one comforter, Der." Damn… that nickname. Stiles noticed his hesitation, undoubtedly, but that didn't deter him.

"I'd feel safer…" At that, Derek just sighed and relented. Partly because the floor really was uncomfortable, and partly because he wanted Stiles to feel safe. But definitely not at all because of how much he wanted to be that close to Stiles, to cuddle and hold him. He just wanted to be that… intimate. Not sexually, or even romantically, but as another human being. As the only person he'd been that close to since he was a kid. He just… it was so tempting.

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Thanks for reading! As always, please favorite, follow, review, and share!


	3. Chapter 3

AN I don't own Teen Wolf or any of its characters!

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 _It was Derek who had the nightmare that night..._

 _Of Kate, back in their apartment. Even if Derek knew how it was going to end, their relationship in the dream was at least somewhat good. He tried to think of it that way, at least. She was… bristley. But she loved him. Right? But he was seventeen and she was twenty. What did he know about love?_

 _They were alone in their apartment-the one on Cole Street, that was always cold but never comfortable enough for cuddling. He was lying down ever so carefully in their bed. Whenever her breathing hitched, he held his own breath just in case his movement angered her. Sharp, manicured nails clawed into his back whenever he moved too much._

 _The room was filled with forced, stiff breathing and a hundred sleepless nights. He felt so suffocated just existing in the same space as her. With no warning, Kate kicked him hard in the shin and pretended it was an accident, but he knew she had heard him crying. She always heard him, somehow. No matter how hard he held the sobs in or how tightly he coiled his body around the silence. She always heard him._

Something jolted him out of the dream but he frantically looked around the room, searching for any understanding of where he was, before he remembered. Stiles hand was still on his arm from where it had woken him. Relax, Derek, he told himself. He wasn't the client and he hadn't ever been; Stiles sense of security was what mattered. In, and out. Slowly, he tried to breathe and forced himself to lie back down on the bed. Stiles was still beside him… When wasn't he?

Derek only realized there were tears on his cheeks when he rubbed his face and then it was quick and desperate, trying to erase any evidence of what had just happened. He was supposed to be strong goddammit! No one put their life in the hands of someone who still had 'bad dreams'. He was so stupid. He never should have got into the bed in the first place it was just that Stiles made him so… relaxed. Apparently, relaxed enough to let his subconscious through.

"You okay?" Stiles was looking up at him, he realized, and met his teary eyes with tired, but clear ones. Had his eyes always been such a beautiful shade of hazel? It didn't matter-snap out of it! Stiles was still waiting for an answer. It took all the strength he had but he nodded, taking a deep breath. He was okay, which was Stiles' cue to roll over and go back to sleep. But, Stiles didn't pull his hand away. Why wasn't he pulling his hand away?

"You look so sad.. Can I hug you please?" Derek wasn't sure if it was the please or if it was that Stiles even asked at all but something in his gut pushed him to nod and he did. He nodded, slow at first and then quicker the longer Stiles just looked at him. Until he couldn't take the awkward distance between them anymore and he pulled Stiles into his arms-just as quickly and tightly as Stiles hugged him. Never in his life had contact been so… Equal. Not 70/30, not 60/40, not 50/50. 100/100. He tried to ignore it but the contact of their skin made his chest feel light and dried the tears before they even fell.

Derek couldn't help himself; he buried his face in Stiles' shoulder without even realizing it. On one level, he knew this was wrong and he hated himself for doing anything except stopping it but on the other… On the other he heard Stiles let out a small, appreciative hum against his cheek at the contact. He nuzzled closer, feeling the panic melt away.

After a few minutes, Derek started to pull away because he knew, in whatever cracked kind of moral compass he had, he shouldn't have been doing this. He shouldn't have even been in the room, let alone the bed-but he wanted it so badly. Stiles was nineteen, and Stiles had been the one to invite him in and then insist they share the bed, so it wasn't like it was legally wrong. But Stiles was a client. Stiles was _the_ client.

He had to force himself to pull away. One step at a time, right? That was all he had to do, just one at a time. First, a finger on Stiles chest and then a whole hand. It was more than enough to push Stiles away but he just couldn't make himself do it. So, instead, he drew his own body back, away from the situation. But Stiles grabbed for him and took hold, dull nails lightly scratching his shoulders when he tried yet again to pull away.

"No!" Stiles whined, his voice low and childishly vulnerable with sleep. "Please don't leave me." The phrasing... Or maybe it was the sad little undertone... But it made him hesitate long enough for Stiles to whimper up to him in that adorable, sleepy little voice

"Not you too." And Derek choked on that, feeling his heart wrench and shatter into a thousand pieces. Suddenly, he was hugging Stiles and pulling him in tight against his chest and whispering reassurances because no amount of closeness could ease the churning in his stomach at hearing that.

Derek, realistically, knew that how intimate this felt was wrong. Stiles was in a vulnerable, emotional state and in no position to be making calls like that. But Derek wanted it so badly. Pushing Stiles away after something like that felt worse than murder. Worse than death. Like he was betraying every ounce of trust Stiles invested in him. The contact alone between them made him relax and knowing that Stiles was safe in his protective hold lulled him to sleep almost instantly. He was gone before he could guilt himself out of it.

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Thanks for reading! The more positive feedback I get, the faster I'll update! As always, please review, follow, favorite, and enjoy!


	4. Chapter 4

AN I don't own Teen Wolf or any of its characters! Just good ol' fluff.

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When he woke up, Stiles was wound in and around his limbs with his head in his chest. Derek sighed when he looked at him, trailing his fingers indulgently up and down the pale arm still cinched around his chest. Stiles didn't deserve this. Now, more than ever, Derek wanted to hug him and protect him and make sure the world never hurt him again. He let himself relish in the feeling, promising himself it could never happen again, but the sleepy little smile Stiles gave him threw that out the window.

"Mornin." Derek smiled

"Good morning." Stiles stretched and yawned but just cuddled back into Derek's side when he was finished.

"I think that's the best sleep I've gotten since it happened." Derek had to smile.

"I'm glad." He didn't say it but it was the best sleep he'd had since Kate. He told Stiles he was going to shower, half to get up away from the guilt of the situation and half because he knew he needed it. Stiles nodded and shuffled off of him before curling back into bed. He would probably be asleep again when Derek got back. But Derek didn't mind that idea, he just smiled slightly and headed to the shower.

While he was in there, he took a long time to think about whatever this feeling was. It was... weird. He usually hated the people he was hired to protect-they were rich brats sick of security details who only wanted to get him fired. But Stiles was different, in more ways than one. The longer he stood there in the hot water, the more he remembered about the nightmare. Not the nightmare itself, really, but how it started. He'd been in high school still, still popular and still playing basketball, but Stiles had been there. It hadn't been a big deal and he couldn't really remember much about it-Stiles wasn't a new kid or anything-but they'd been standing out under the bleachers in the gym before practice where he used to meet Kate when they were still in love.

He'd smiled when he saw Stiles duck under the aluminum railing, and he remembered the happiness washing over him. Sliding his hands onto Stiles' waist, wrapping him up and pulling his body against his own, leaning down and... Kissing. They'd kissed. That was why he was so afraid of Kate that night-he'd thought she knew. He'd dream-kissed Stiles. There were implications of that he couldn't ignore, but more than any guilt he felt, he was overcome with an urge to do it in real life. To know what Stiles' soft, constantly rambling lips felt against his own.

He stepped out of the shower and wrapped the towel around his waist, moving to the mirror to inspect the recent bruises blossoming over his throat. When, suddenly, he heard Stiles outside in the hall.

"Hey, Der, don't take too long 'cause-" The door opened before he even noticed and Stiles' shocked face when he accidentally stepped into the room was priceless. "I'm so sorry oh my god oh my-" He watched Stiles' cheek flush with embarrassment, amused. He couldn't help noticing the way Stiles' eyes drank in his body, every inch of muscle and scar tissue that his eyes could reach, before slipping lower to the towel and maybe trying to see through it?

"Stiles?" He jumped back, almost out of the room, suddenly coming back to reality, and backed away quickly, mumbling.

"Sorry, sorry, I didn't mean... Hurry up or breakfast will get cold." Stiles disappeared through the doorway but Derek just stared after him. Breakfast? Even if it was just cereal-but cereal couldn't get cold, unless Stiles made his own version of cereal-it would be the first time since he moved out that anyone had made him food. He usually fended for himself and lately had been taking to the habit of cooking for Stiles but never the other way around.

When he went down the stairs, however, his nose was filled with possibly the best smell he had ever smelled. Walking into the kitchen, he saw Stiles standing over a plate covered in tinfoil to keep in the heat, five other feds hounding him to share or at least give them a taste, but he couldn't help but smile when Stiles shooed them away, telling them it was just for Derek and him. When they complained and whined, wanting to know why, Stiles glared.

"Because he's actually keeping me safe, not just punching a time card." When Derek walked in and made himself known, the other agents scurried out of sight as quickly as possible. Stiles smiled in greeting and removed the tinfoil to show a stack of fresh golden pancakes. And they were so fucking good. So good. Heavenly good. Derek hadn't tasted food this good in five star hotels. He moaned in appreciation and Stiles gave a shy little smile.

"They're my mom's recipe, she taught me when I was little." Derek nodder, thanking him with his facial expressions, and ate all of them except for the two Stiles ate. He wondered why Stiles made him food but Stiles just seemed to be in an altogether good mood and it was probably because of how well he slept. Derek couldn't deny that he felt better too. Happy, almost.

So when Stiles begged him to let him outside to take a walk-it was the middle of nowhere, and they'd be covered by the trees anyways-Derek caved relatively quickly. Maybe that was why he fed him, as a bribe. But he agreed even if it was because honestly it had been two months since he got here and he knew Stiles was in federal protection before that so he needed it. He agreed, and smirked when Stiles pulled on an oversized hoodie and tennis shoes immediately. Like a little kid, he wanted to go the second Derek said yes.

* * *

Stiles was clumsy. There was no denying that. So he got a lot of minor injuries. And Derek, as bodyguard and protector, always fixed him back up. When Stiles woke up in the middle of the night without Derek beside him, he instantly was worried. He went to investigate only to stop at the top of the stairs. He heard a gun cock. He backed up and looked out the window. There were three black SUVs outside. No one they knew drove black SUVs-feds didn't get paid that much and Derek would have told him if other freelance friends were coming.

The doorbell didn't ring and no voices were heard. After a few beats of silence, Stiles started to creep down the stairs to the landing just enough to see. In the living room, five federal agents were lying dead on the floor. Stiles would have gagged if he hadn't seen it twice before already. What made his stomach churn was seeing Derek standing among them. He didn't like Derek being that close to death, knowing that that could have been Derek if he hadn't been asleep with Stiles. The men were just barely out of sight but Stiles caught flashes of suits and guns every few seconds. They were quietly ordering Derek to keep quiet and to tell them where Stiles was. From the noise Stiles guessed there were at least ten of them and, when Derek looked back at the men with that blank calculating stare, Stiles knew what he was going to do before he did it.

He lunged and Stiles choked back a yelp when the first shot went off. He couldn't see Derek and that made it even worse but he heard the fighting continue and that was a good sign at least because it meant Derek was still alive and fighting back. Until suddenly Derek was thrown across the room against the wall with a sickening thud. Stiles couldn't breathe. He watched Derek get up, obviously in pain, and his body urged him to go out there and protect him even though Derek was far more competent in battle than him and he'd probably only get him hurt more. But as he watched the two last ones (or at least it seems that way) grabbed for Derek and caught one of his arms before Derek snatched one of their guns and dropped them both.

As if on instinct, Derek turned and looked Stiles directly in the eyes. There was a fierce sort of protectiveness in Derek's face and Stiles loved it. But he could tell that wasn't all of them and Derek confirmed that by rushing towards him and grabbing his hand to pull him upstairs. Shouting erupted downstairs and Derek led them out the bedroom window and down one of the trees in the backyard. Stiles lost his grip but before he could even start to scream Derek caught him. A look passed between them with one message I've got you and Stiles nodded.

They made a break for one of the cars and Derek pushes Stiles into the passenger seat before getting into the driver's seat and starting the engine. Immediately, lights went on and a few shots rang out. Derek floored it in reverse and then down the gravel driveway going at least four times faster than the road was meant for. Soon cars were in pursuit but Derek didn't seem to notice. He glanced at Stiles speeding more.

"Are you okay?" Stiles was shaky but nodded.

"Yeah I'm okay, you?" Derek almost seemed surprised and didn't answer.

"Where's your seatbelt?" Stiles clicked it on as soon as he said, muttering yes mom under his breath but without any annoyance. He knew to trust Derek. And the second he did, Derek floored it. Taking corners at sixty and flooring it to ninety on the straight aways. The tails kept up but Derek lost them on the freeway and exited, moving back to small backroads at like thirty five and finally they both seemed to catch their breath.

"You're okay?" Stiles didn't say that that was the second time Derek asked him that, he just nodded and swallowed.

'Yeah, freaked out but alive. Are you okay?" Again, Derek looked surprised.

"Yeah." They drove for hours but Stiles was still too wired to sleep and Derek was driving. Finally, Derek stopped in a tiny town at a motel and told him to stay in the car while he got them a room. A few minutes later Derek came back and led him to room 14. Inside, he dropped the keys and his leather jacket on the table and kicked his shoes off before turning to Stiles. He inspected Stiles to make sure he was, in fact, okay before scrounging for food. There was ketchup in the fridge and a Keurig so they had microwaved ketchup (because really Derek said it was just tomato soup right) and coffee for breakfast. It was only about noon but they were both exhausted so it might as well have been dinner. Stiles was going to head for the bed when he saw Derek wince when he twisted his shoulder to grab something.

"Hey you sure you're okay? You hit that wall pretty hard." Derek squinted in annoyance-at the weakness, not at Stiles-but nodded.

"I'll heal."

"You're sore, though. Let me help." Derek raised an eyebrow at him. "Before my mom died, she had a lot of chronic pain. My dad taught me how to massage it whenever he wasn't home." Derek hesitated but nodded because his shoulder did really hurt like a bitch. He sat in the chair where Stiles motioned and tried to breath. Stiles' hands rested on his shoulders and slowly brushed up to his neck.

"Damn, Der. I can feel it throbbing this must hurt like hell." Derek didn't shrug but stayed quiet. Slowly, Stiles started to press and squeeze the muscles but it just hurt even more.

"I know, trust me, it's worth it." Derek nodded and grimaced until he felt Stiles slip his hands under his shirt. _God_ the skin on skin contact was addictive and he knew it was just because he had starved himself of human contact for so long but it felt damn near electric. He didn't realize the pain was subsiding until his head dropped back against Stiles stomach and his eyes were closed. The harder Stiles worked, it the more relaxed it became until Derek's breathing was coming in short gasps and he'd forgotten where he even was. The feeling of Stiles hands on his skin, taking the pain away, was a godsend. He almost whimpered when Stiles stopped.

"You hurt your back, too, didn't you." It wasn't a question. Normally, Derek was the one calling Stiles out on his bullshit but apparently the roles had reversed. Derek nodded, eyes still closed, because he couldn't really think to be anything but completely honest with Stiles right now.

"Stand up. Come on." He did, surprised to find his legs weak and almost not supporting him completely. He winced again when his back twisted but Stiles just motioned towards the bed.

"Lay down. It's easier if you take your shirt off.. if you want." Derek didn't even catch the small rise in strikes voice at that or the gasp of breath when he did as instructed. Exhausted, he fell into the bed on his stomach and felt the bed dip when Stiles sat beside him. Stiles did the same to his upper and lower back, but it was much more painful and therefore much more blissful when it released. The feeling of Stiles bare hands on his skin just wasn't something he could get over. He loved it.

Suddenly, he remembered where he was and who he was with and he started to get up but two firms palms pressed against his shoulders, pushing him back down onto the bed.

"Relax, Der it's okay." Derek shook his head though.

"No, I'm supposed to be protecting you."

"And you can't do that if you're in severe pain, can you?" What hit Derek more than the reasoning or the logic behind it was the word severe. No one had ever described his pain as severe. With Kate, he was always exaggerating and it was never that bad. In the army, he was always underdiagnosed and undertreated because they thought he was just being a baby. But here was Stiles, having not even heard a word of complaint from him, calling it severe. Giving it importance. He liked that.

"Let me take care of you for a little bit, okay Der?" He nodded. There was nothing else he could do with Stiles' fingers rubbing against the small of his back and the relief weighing down his body. He felt Stiles' fingers pass gently over one of his scars, a deep red one near his waist that was at least seven inches. Rough and tangled flesh where an axe had been embedded in his back.

"Can I…?"

"What? Ask?" He took the silence as a yes. "An axe, from a POW camp in Pakistan." Stiles continued to trace every scar he could find no matter how small but didn't ask about any of them, just traced them. That seemed to be more what he was asking permission for. To touch. And Derek was more than willing, loving the sensation of Stiles fingers on his body. It didn't have to be sexual or mean anything, he just loved the contact. It made him feel so close and connected to Stiles, like they were breathing together and their hearts were beating together.

Derek couldn't hold in a whimper when Stiles ran his hand up his spine and tangled it in his hair. He pulled his hair a little bit-maybe by accident, maybe not-but Derek moaned and couldn't stop himself from arching into it. Slowly, Stiles found every sensitive patch of skin on his body and alternated between them, lightly scratching at his sides, tugging at his hair and massaging under his shoulder blades. When Stiles finally stopped, Derek was almost asleep. He started to protest when Stiles got up, but Stiles smiled at him from across the motel room.

"I'm just locking the door, Der." Derek quieted and watched until Stiles came back and crawled under the covers beside him. Stiles curled into his side-he'd taken his shirt off, apparently, because Derek was suddenly very aware of Stiles' bare skin against his own. It wasn't electric, or like fire under his skin, but it was warm. Not warm like flames or like two bodies sheathed in sweat; warm like hot chocolate, like thick blankets and tight hugs. Warm like home.

He slipped his arm around Stiles' waist, loving the connection of his arm against Stiles' skin, and pulled him in closer against his own body. He expected Stiles to pull away but he just smiled. He closed his eyes when Stiles reached up and cupped his cheek, thumb tracing under his eyes. It was small but something about the innocence of the motion, the obvious comforting intention behind it, that made it amazing. He was asleep the second he had the reassurance of Stiles skin against his.

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